


Dreams

by NikaAnuk



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dreams, M/M, Post Beach Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a telepath and the great one so he could easily get read of his dreams. But he decided not to since it is the only way he can have Erik back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic I've wrote after seeing this fanart:  
> 
> 
> by [freefallcrash ](http://freefallcrash.deviantart.com/)

The most terrifying and painful dreams were actually very calm and bright. Warm days, days full of sun when twittering mixed in the air with children's voices; familiar places, home, garden and Erik, they sitting together in the garden, under one of the trees, watching kids using their powers; sipping tea in the sun, talking and laughing; Erik laughed actually, he would occasionally look at Charles to pour him more tea – they gave up china for metal pot so he could use it without his hands – and he would smile at him so tenderly that Charles sometimes really hoped they could stay together forever.  
But he knew they wouldn't, he knew Erik's mind, even if Lehnsherr was happy he didn't plan anything except his revenge. And Charles knew he would never let it happened so during those warm days they have spent together he didn't think about it at all.  
There were other dreams, with only the two of them sitting in the library over the chessboard; Erik beamed towards the middle, thinking of the next move, occasionally tapping his temple with his finger.  
„You're not looking here, Charles, are you?” He would ask with his strong German accent and Charles always felt a shiver down his spin.  
„No, obviously not, my friend. I promised you not to read your mind, remember?” He would answer, smiling with more certainty than he actually felt.  
In his dreams Charles remembered more details than in reality; sometimes laying sleepless he was wondering how much of them he imagined and how much were true. In those dreams he could tell the colour of Erik's eyes – always different, depending on the lightning – and the smell of his cologne. And waking up from them Charles was longing for him even more than normally.  
The dreams were also the only times when he could feel Erik physically. Sometimes he was waking up at the weight in bed and it would be Erik, coming to him with that cocky smile and very dark eyes in the dusk. He would hover over him and when Charles opened his mouth to tell him that he couldn’t feel, that he was paralysed he would only put his finger on Charles' lips and then his hand would wander down Charles' abdomen and even lower and – for all surprise – Charles could feel it. Then Erik would kiss him, his hair were damp, he played with Xavier's lips and tongue. But at the end Charles would wake up in the empty bed, immobile as always, with his hands wet with tears. Those were the only dreams he was waking up from so emotionally destroyed.  
Being a telepath was a curse sometimes. Most of the times. Always, if you would ask Charles. He was supposed to remember everything. Every unpleasant memory of his own and people he knew, people whose mind he has ever read. He could put it down somewhere deep in his mind but usually he didn't because he never knew if he wouldn't need it. But his own memories? He would never be able to escape from them.  
At first, just after the situation on the beach, he had dreams which started with his awakening – it was the most common situation in his dreams – and Erik's face was just over his, their foreheads pressed together. He wanted to reach to him, he could brush his fingers over Erik's cheek, and then Lehnsherr would raise up and walk away. And when Charles tried to stand up he was falling on the sand. But once he sorted his feelings out this dream ended. But worse came to him.  
He was forced by his own mind to look at all those moments with Erik, their trips, their conversations, their fights and there was no solution for this. The only one – forgetting – was never an option.  
After every nightmare Charles would lie down in his big bed staring at the ceiling in the cold night, shivering lightly. Sometimes he was looking for Erik's mind, one minute of conversation would fix everything, he was sure about it but soon he stopped doing so – it drove him mad. Other nights he was just staring as the rising sun starting to draw patterns on the ceiling and he would listen to the house, waiting for the moment someone would come in to help him. At that moment he was perfectly fine again, his feelings neatly put in order and nothing interrupting every day’s routine of taking care, teaching and searching for mutants.  
Every day he would immerse himself in others’ life to escape those dreams. But, clearly, he couldn't escape his own head.


End file.
